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Petite League
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Little Fourth of July
I call you Little Fourth of July
A broken cloudy day still lights up the sky
I bled out of the tiger's mouth
When I was 17, when I was 17
I love you like a wasp loves honey
Sell my soul for some of that Young Money
I love you like an upstate winter
Makes my word go from sweet to bitter
I've seen the world spin
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I've seen the suburban sin
I wrote about growing pains through a Sparkling youth
When I was 17, when I was 17.
I love you like a wasp loves honey
Sell my soul for some of that Young Money
I love you like an upstate winter
Makes my word go from sweet to bitter
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